Ave and Vale
by chapellefan
Summary: One shot. Boone has one mission left: take out the new Legate. However, one capture later and he's looking death into the eye. Slight F!Courier/Boone oneshot. Rated T for disturbing themes.


**Ave and Vale**

He'd set up camp just a few clicks from Cottonwood. Most Legionaries didn't come across the set up he had in the hills, and those unfortunate to do so were met with a quick death. He was equipped with little but his baret and his rifle. For him, it was more than enough.

Things went to hell after they'd lost the Dam. The Legion swarmed in like Cazadores, taking up everything in sight. Soon, McCarren, Golf and Forlorn Hope were all occupied by the Legion. Going home wasn't an option; despite the Brightfollowers assistance, Caesar's troop occupied Novac as well. Even with all of the Securitrons, with House out of the way, the sheer numbers overwhelmed them and soon, even the neon city was taken.

The very sight of them made his already tempered blood boil. He didn't have plans to retreat or wait out the threat. He damn well knew there was only one way though this and it sure as hell wasn't west. So, he waited, just like he was taught to in basic training. He took occasional glances and made sure his position was secure. Not even she knew where he was. With each passing day, he had only one mission on his mind, one desire above all else.

Kill the Legate.

If he did this, if he could do this one thing, he swore he'd start jumping the legion which way he went. He'd die happy. Well, happier.

He continued to watch the camp for some time now, making sure his temper didn't get the better of him. He saw several of the Legionaries show off how many NCR dogtags they had "earned" from their kills. Bastards. As he continued to gaze at the camp, Boone took notice of the big game ahead. Centurions were more frequent to the camp than he last remembered. Also noted more than the usual Vexillarius in the encampment. Things had pretty much gone as he'd expected them to, save one factor. The factor he was here to get rid of.

Suddenly, the troops started taken notice of another figure and he knew it was time. He took his position and looked down the scope. Just as he'd expected, it was the Legate, fully adorned in the metal garb and bearded helmet. The legionaries bowed down in respect. He watched for an opening, only to find several soldiers blocking his shot. Moving would be disasterous in his position and firing off multiple rounds would give away his location. No, he had to make it count. One shot, one kill.

He breathed for several moments, waiting for his time. He knew it would come to this, eventually. Ever since he met her in Novac, it was all leading up to this. Suddenly, he heard several noises behind him. At first, he stood still hoping he wasn't spotted. However, when one of them shouted "Profligate" or some other nonsense, he fired off several rounds, killing several guards but not his target. He switched to his Machete, beheading the first trooper coming at him, only to be tackled to the ground by the others. He screamed, and nearly bit his own tongue, but he was too stubborn, too full of rage to take the coward's way out. Instead, he waited as he was bound by rope and then presented to the Legate.

"This soldier was in the hills, attempting to kill us." One of the Legionaries said. "We could not locate any others in the area."

There, the metal shell stared coldly at the soldier. "No, this one prefers solitude. I am familiar with the kind."

The voice, so deep and so dead. He never realized how much his blood continued to boil as he struggled through his restraints.

"Go to hell." He said, with no inflection in his tone.

"You dare speak to the Legate like that?" One of the Praetorians said.

"We should cruxify your-"

"Peace, Lucius." The leader said, silencing them. "I will grant this soldier of the NCR of looking upon me, one last time."

Slowly, the helmet lifted off to reveal soft skin, blue eyes lighting up the night and blond hair tied up in a ponytail. He glared at the face, seeing her once again, after she had shown her true colors. The Courier, in all her glory, did not gloat or smile but merely stared at Boone. Her face was taut as he could see lines under her eyes. She had become one of them.

"Ave. True to Caesar." She spoke. He thought to himself. Shit, hard C sound. She was speaking their language. She was too far gone.

"And what should be done with you, Profligate?"

He gritted his teeth. "Why?"

"Why? Specify, NCR. How can I answer if you prompt me with so little?"

"Why did you do it? Why did you join these… bastards?"

She paused, and walked around as if savoring her answer.

"And what should I have done? Support a stagnant Republic, unable to protect its own borders? Support a decrepit fool and his plan to use his machines to launch us into the stars? Or let the Wasteland destroy itself with bitter squabbles and petty feuds? Caesar Lanius shall bring order to this land and ensure it is safe and secure."

He struggled in his binds, unsatisfied. "I thought you knew. I thought… after Bitter Springs, you knew."

"The lesson of Bitter Springs was resolve. It was to accept the outcome of war and to show mercy to no one. That would not have been so with the NCR in control. When I heard Caesar's vision, his plan, I knew what had to be done. It was simple, but brilliant. A unified government that would end the tribal wars and bring a new era."

He looked up, calming down. "You think you're one of them? You think they see you as anything more than a… pet?"

She looked back, taking a moment to consider his point.

"With the old Caesar passed and the new one at the helm, I will bring a new order to the Legion. I will make the females soldiers and show them the difference between a slave and a warrior. If they are as weak as a woman as many claim they are, then they deserve their fate."

The fell silent. Clearly, his arguments weren't going anywhere and she would not listen. A sick part of him wished he could've saved her. Not like he saved Carla, but actually rescued her from her brainwashing. But, that was before Hoover Dam. Before Kimball died. Before Oliver died. Before he had heard reports of the Courier unleashing her wrath. He paused and sat quietly.

"Mars looks upon you." She said, being handed a Machete. "I will grant you a quick death. Any last words?"

He looked up. "Like I said, go to hell."

For a moment, perhaps just for a moment, he witnessed seeing the actual her again. She stared and spoke.

"You first."


End file.
